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He saw Miss Alicia's delicate, timid face as he spoke. T. Tembarom laughed. "That's just it," he answered. "They wouldn't go back on you for worlds, but well, you have to be careful with them." "He's got something on his mind," mentally commented the duke. "He wonders if he will tell it to me."
T. Tembarom." And he grinned his splendid grin from sheer sense of relief. "I'm a New Yorker Brooklyn. I was just forked in here anyhow. Don't you waste time thinking over me. You sit down here and do your durndest with Miles Hugo."
Tembarom was rather silent during the first part of their walk, and when he spoke it was of Captain Palliser. "He's a fellow that's got lots of curiosity. I guess he's asked you more questions than he's asked me," he began at last, and he looked at her interestedly, though she was not aware of it.
"When I went to talk to the head woman in the shop in Bond Street I fixed it with 'em hard and fast that she was not to spoil her. They were to keep her like she was. She's like her little cap, you know, and her little mantles and tippets. She's like them," exclaimed Tembarom. Did he see that? What an odd feature in a man of his sort!
Tembarom waited in thrilled suspense. She spoke in a whisper again: "He won a great deal of money a great deal. He had that uncanny luck again, and of course people in the other rooms heard what was going on, and a number drifted in to look on. The man he had promised to give his revenge to almost showed signs of having to make an effort to conceal his irritation and disappointment.
I've been looking in the telephone-book for confectioners, and I've written down these addresses." She handed him a slip of paper. Tembarom caught his breath. "Hully gee!" he exclaimed, "there never were TWO of you made! One used up all there was of it. How am I going to thank you, anyhow!" "I do hope you'll be able to keep the page," she said. "I do that, Mr. Tembarom."
"She and the old lady are going to stay at a place called Asshawe Holt. I think they're going next week," Tembarom said. "The old lady?" repeated Captain Palliser. "I mean her mother. The one that's the Countess of Mallowe." "Have you met Lady Mallowe?" Palliser inquired with a not wholly repressed smile. A vision of Lady Mallowe over-hearing their conversation arose before him. "No, I haven't.
The letter Miss Alicia composed, and which Tembarom copied, he read and reread, with visions of Jim Bowles and Julius looking over his shoulder. If they picked it up on Broadway, with his name signed to it, and read it, they'd throw a fit over it, laughing. But he supposed she knew what you ought to write. It had not, indeed, the masculine touch.
Burrill walked back stiffly to the dining-room. "It won't trouble HIM much to be disturbed at his wine," he muttered before going. "He doesn't know hock from port." When the message was delivered to him, Tembarom excused himself with simple lack of ceremony. "I 'll be back directly," he said to Palliser. "Those are good cigars." And he left the room without going into the matter further.
"There'll be nobody present but just me and her," Tembarom answered. The visits of Lady Mallowe and Captain Palliser had had their features. Neither of the pair had come to one of the most imposing "places" in Lancashire to live a life of hermit-like seclusion and dullness.
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